The Morning After
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: The double date had ended in disaster. Little did Will know that it would be the least of his problems. Tag to "Wingmen".


_A/N: Let's get this out of the way... I do not ship Helen/Will. Sure, they flirt on the show, but it's not my cup of tea. So no, there will not be any sex in this fic. It's a friendship piece, plain and simple, designed to show us some of that bond they share that season 3.5 has kinda forgotten about._

_Enjoy! _

_P.S. Feel free to review. I like to hear what you guys think!_

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><p>Will watched astutely as Magnus called an end to the week's staff meeting, and strode over to her desk as the others drifted out of her office. She hadn't said more than two words to him individually since the meeting's start, and come to think of it, hadn't really spoken to him since the failed double date a few nights ago.<p>

Not only that, but she'd avoided looking at him as well—subtly, but studiously nonetheless. And now, he saw her flick through some of the forms she plucked from her desk, with the distinct air of making herself busy.

When she didn't address his lingering presence—which he knew she was aware of—he got to his feet with a pointed sigh.

"So, are you going to tell what I did to make you angry with me," he delivered shortly, "or am I going to have to guess?"

She continued to glance over the papers in her hands, not turning away from her desk to face him, or even acknowledging his query. It struck him as peculiar—she wasn't prone to bouts of immaturity, and he wondered if she was buying herself time to gather her thoughts.

He gave a moment's pause in deference, and in the end he decided she simply was being childish.

"What, did I leave the toilet seat up in the staff bathroom, or…"

He let the implication hang, and was rewarded when she flipped her folder shut, turning on her heel to face him. What he wasn't expecting was the cold expression of exasperation in her eyes.

"Need I remind you that this facility, above all else, is a place of business?" she stated bluntly, her voice steely.

Will blinked, his brows lifting in surprise. "Uhh… what?"

"I do understand that, in this line of work, it is difficult to maintain a healthy personal life, but it seems that you have forgotten what it means to remain professional."

"_Professional_?" Will parroted, his voice raising an octave. "What—? Magnus, what is this about?"

He couldn't keep an edge of condescension from creeping into his voice in response to her abrupt accusation, and her eyes narrowed dangerously in response.

"I may have old-fashioned sensibilities, but I believe that entering your employer's office with your girlfriend in nothing but her knickers is inappropriate in _any_ century."

Will could almost hear the word _harlot_ in her tone. He definitely saw it in her eyes.

"Furthermore, I would like to remind you that there is a reason your personal quarters are not monitored on constant video surveillance—so that your private relations may remain _private_."

Will's face flushed involuntarily as memories from the heated passion he'd shared with Abby, right there on top of his office desk. He'd completely forgotten about the security cameras, and the thought that Magnus—and god knows who else—might have seen it left him mortified. But at the same time, he felt himself rise to the defense, both for himself and for Abby's honor.

"Is that what the silent treatment is about? Jesus, you could've just said something! Why _didn't_ you say anything? It's been _days_, Magnus!"

"I was debating the necessity of addressing the standards I seem to have let slip these past few years," she countered sharply. "I must say, I haven't had to give it any thought before you came on board."

"Whoa, whoa… Personal attacks are not necessary here—I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again." Will glared at Magnus, whose gaze did not soften in the slightest. Nor did she respond, or offer any sort of promise of ramifications if it _did_ happen again.

It unsettled him.

He turned to leave, and made halfway to the door before he turned back, righteous indignation tempering his better judgment.

"No," he said sharply, anger tingeing his voice. "No. No way. That can't be it—" She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. "It can't be the _only_ thing. No, you've had days to reprimand me about that. And yes, it was unprofessional of me, but there's no way you'd let it bother you _this_ much."

Her jaw remained stubbornly set, and her gaze darkened. "I do not need to explain myself to you, Dr. Zimmerman. I've addressed my concerns. See to it that the situation is rectified. I do not want to have this conversation again."

Gathering her folders in her arms, Will watched her breeze from the room, leaving him staring aghast in her wake.

For days, she remained aloof. Will tried to get her alone, to continue the conversation he'd tried to have in her office, but the business of the Sanctuary kept her legitimately busy. Then a conference call with international heads of state—the identities of whom remained shrouded in secrecy—kept her sequestered in her office for almost two days straight.

When she finally emerged, she looked exhausted and haggard. He'd been resolved to approach her then, but one look at her pale features had instantly deflated him. She went straight to her quarters and slept for nearly twelve hours straight, before an escaped chimera put the entire facility on full-alert.

In the end, Magnus was the one who cornered it in the upstairs residential north wing. As soon as it was properly sedated she handed it off to Henry, before making a beeline for the newborn diprotodon. She slid back into the traffic of the Sanctuary with little effort at all, before Will even had a chance to try and talk to her.

It was almost a week before he managed to catch her doing paperwork in her office. She barely glanced at him when he entered, and he knew that she hadn't forgotten their last conversation any more than he had.

He sat in the chair across from her desk, the same chair he'd sat in when he'd agreed to work for her. For a long moment, the silence was broken only by the scratch of her pen on paper as she continued to work. In the end, he sighed his frustration out with a heavy breath.

"I apologize for my behavior last week," he said, his voice carefully calm. "You're right. It was unprofessional. There's a line between professional and personal, and I crossed it. It won't happen again."

Her eyes flashed to his, the pen in her hand stuttering to a stop. It was her turn to give a sigh, as some of the fight left her shoulders. Her fingers worried the ends of her pen, and her gaze lowered slightly.

"Thank you," she accepted finally. It was a moment before she continued. "But I think perhaps I overreacted slightly."

Will leaned back in his chair. "I know you did. That's why I'm here."

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously, warning him. "If your intent is to be snide, feel free to leave," she delivered sharply. "Whether I overreacted or not is irrelevant to how this facility functions, unlike your own behavior. _This_," she motioned to the air between them, "will be a civil exchange between friends, or it will not happen at all."

Will raised his hand. "Fine. Friends then." He crossed his left leg over his knee, determined to keep the atmosphere mellow. Her scolding the week before still stung, but he couldn't let it get the better of him now. "I've been trying to figure out which bothered you more—sex on the security cams, or Abby and I coming into your office."

Her gaze slid askance, and he knew he was touching on some nerves. He counted it as a good thing, as it meant he was getting warmer.

"Look, Magnus, I know you're big on professionalism."

And she was. It was a line they all danced on, because they weren't just colleagues. They were family. But at the same time, the facility was a place of business, and there were some things you kept out of the workplace.

Abby in her underwear was one of them.

"But there's only so many ways I can apologize for barging in on your date with Henry."

She almost flinched, and the instant he said Will realized what the problem was. His legs uncrossed, and he leaned forward, his head bowed with renewed chagrin.

"We interrupted your dinner with Henry," he repeated, running a hand over his face. "Jesus, Magnus… I— I didn't even realize…"

"I know you didn't," Magnus answered, her voice soft. "I very much doubt Henry himself realized." She pushed her hair over her shoulder, using the motion to bide herself a chance to gather her thoughts. "Surely, if you had, you wouldn't have been callus enough to parade your half-naked girlfriend in front of him the same night the girl he'd proposed to had left him."

Well, when she said it like that…

Will groaned. "Jesus. I'm an idiot. I didn't think…"

"I'd wanted to take advantage of the situation," she continued, steering the conversation away from his self-reproach. "It's been a long time since I've reached out to him, ever since Ashley died. We haven't really talked, and I'd intended to use his declined proposal as a way to reopen the channels, so to speak… without being too obvious about it."

Will bit his lip nervously. He'd always wondered exactly how close the relationship between Magnus and Henry was. They'd never explicitly advertised it, but he knew parts of Henry's history. How he'd grown up here in the Sanctuary, raised by Magnus. And the HAP had always had a brother-sister bond with Ashley.

Her death would have hit Henry just as hard as it had Magnus.

"Surely you two got a chance to talk after we left, though, right?" he voiced plaintively. "We were only in your office for two minutes, if that."

Her eyes crinkled, betraying her amusement. "It wasn't as productive a conversation I'd hoped it'd be, once Henry had caught sight of your rather rosy cheeked countenance." She paused, her eyes glinting mischievously. "And I was left at a severe disadvantage without the aid of the _agnolotti_."

A cough of laughter escaped him, and a flush of heat raced up his neck as he remembered exactly what purpose the _agnolotti_ had served in the end. But at the same time, he was reassured that the clear and present danger had passed. She'd forgiven him. And more than that, she still trusted him, on a personal level.

That meant more to him than anything else.

"I'm sorry, Magnus," he said honestly. "Really… I am. I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."

This time, her lips curled into a real smile. "That's not necessary, Will." A slim eyebrow lifted assertively. "Just keep in mind that the only bare legs I want to see in my office are my own."

A strangled bark of laughter escaped him at the thought, before his face burned with a furious blush. In an attempt to cover it, Will turned the conversation back on her. "Jeez, Magnus… Double standard much?"

"Not at all," came the smart reply, dead-panned and straight-faced. But then her voice lowered into a purr. "At least I have the sense to disable the security cameras."


End file.
